These were the exciting events from TODAY’S morning meeting.
Someone in the group was passing just a little bit of gas, and let’s just say that it was extraordinary.
Matthew, who is never at a loss for Chris Rock-like one-liners, cries out,
“It smells like Nana's pot-roast up in here!”
Now, I've never had Matthew's Nana's pot-roast but if it even smelled remotely like what we were smelling, I wouldn't put it in my mouth.
A little voice whispered quietly from the back of the group, without missing a beat...
“Sorry Guys...my butt's just working overtime.” It was our dear little Frank.
Knowing the stomach flu was making the rounds, I kept my eye on little Frankie all morning, because noxious gas usually precedes a cookie toss...
Sure enough about an half hour later… I beat my fifteen-second “running with the garbage can” record.
And not a DROP made it to the floor.
(And THANKS for springing me yesterday!! I am speechless, speechless, speechless - but I will whip up blubbering thank you tomorrow!!! You guys are all amazing. Bitchy and Sassy had faith ALL along..and admire your loyalty..as do I.)
